The Second Prophecy
by Smudgie
Summary: Set immediately after DH. Harry is torn apart by guilt over the deaths he believes he caused, and news of a second prophecy isn't exactly welcome. I've tried to stick to J K Rowling's writing style. Will eventually contain an OC.
1. Chapter 1

Although his eyes itched with tiredness and every part of his body ached with exhaustion, Harry simply could not let himself slip into sleep. He was still tense and alert, expecting a Death Eater to burst into the dormitory at any moment; and he couldn't rid himself of the images that played over and over in his mind: Fred, dead, his eyes glassy and unseeing…Lupin and Tonks in the Great Hall…Voldemort, falling backwards to the ground…

Try as he might, he couldn't convince himself that it was over, couldn't get his head around the fact that he was safe now; the people he loved weren't in danger anymore – what remained of them, anyway – and there would be no more unsettling glimpses into Voldemort's mind. He reached up and rubbed a finger over his scar. It had burned so frequently over the past year that it was strange not to feel the pain anymore, and stranger still to imagine that he would never feel it again.

He pulled off his glasses and jammed them onto the bedside table; then he turned over in the bed and firmly shut his eyes. _It's over. You can sleep now._

Half an hour later he was still not asleep. Grinding his teeth together in frustration, he frowned up at the canopy of the four-poster bed as if he stared at it long enough the images would finally leave him in peace. Fred and Lupin and Tonks, all playing in an endless loop in his mind, over and over and over.

He heard the dormitory door open. Not bothering to pretend to be asleep, he glanced over, half-hoping it was Ron; but it was Ginny who had slipped in.

Blinking, he raised himself on his elbows and reached for his glasses. 'Ginny? How'd you get in here?'

She gave him a curious look. 'It's boys who can't get into the girls' dorm, remember?'

'Right…yeah…' Mentally cursing his sleep-deprived state, he watched as she came over and perched on the edge of his bed.

'Did I wake you up?'

'Nah…couldn't sleep.'

Ginny pursed her lips thoughtfully, her brown eyes intent on his face. 'I could go and ask Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping potion.'

Harry shook his head. 'It doesn't matter. She's probably got her hands full.'

'You really look like you need to sleep, though. Are you sure?'

'What difference does it make? I'm only going to have to…' He shrugged bitterly, '...wake up anyway...'

He saw Ginny's eyes widen in horror.

'Sorry,' he said hastily. 'I didn't mean it like that – '

'Harry.' There was an expression in her eyes that he'd never seen before, and the two of them stared at each other for a couple of moments, completely still.

Then Ginny reached out and pressed her palm to Harry's face, caressing his cheek. 'Harry,' she whispered again, and suddenly, inexplicably, his eyes were filling with tears. He made to wipe them off, but Ginny caught his hands in hers and leaned forward until their lips met.

He kissed her back, softly, gently, even as the tears ran down his cheeks. They remained like that for a minute or two, blindly pressing their faces together, clutching each other's hands.

They withdrew, each breathing slightly more heavily than they had been before. Harry started to say something, but Ginny caught his shoulders and slowly pushed him backwards until he his head was resting on the pillow again. 'Go to sleep, Harry,' she said softly, touching his cheek again.

Her brown eyes were the last he saw before his own eyes closed and darkness settled over him. Her hand moved in circles over his cheek, caressing him, a soothing pattern that relaxed his mind and kept the dead at bay, so that they lurked at the corners of his heart rather than tearing at his insides, and at last he drifted into sleep.

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When he woke, Ginny was gone and the fading light outside the windows told him that it was nearing nightfall. Loud snores filled the dormitory; Neville, Dean and Seamus were all slumped on their beds. There was still no sign of Ron.

_Probably snogging Hermione again, _Harry thought to himself, remembering their passionate embrace in the middle of their hunt for the diadem. The memory was a little disturbing, but he supposed he had better get used to it.

He still felt tired, but a lot less than he had that morning; and he was more hungry than tired now, anyway. Maybe he could scrounge some food from the kitchens, or perhaps there was something left in the Great Hall. After swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his trainers, he got up and left the dormitory.

About twenty people were in the Gryffindor common room now; most were snoring on couches or in armchairs, but several were huddled in small groups. A few were sitting by themselves with blank expressions on their faces; one girl was sobbing violently in a corner. As Harry passed they all glanced up, but before they could say anything to him he was climbing out of the portrait hole as fast as possible, not feeling that he was able to deal with anyone other than his closest friends tonight.

The corridors were empty and quiet; even the portraits were now slumbering in painted chairs. The echoing stillness uncomfortably reminded Harry of how, that very day, he had set out through the quiet castle to meet his death.

He stopped in the tall doorway of the Great Hall. The first stars were beginning to twinkle in the enchanted ceiling. The room was dimly lit; only a few candles glimmered in the huge space. People sat here and there along the long wooden house tables, and Harry spotted what appeared to be the entire Weasley family grouped halfway along the Gryffindor table. They appeared to be very still; perhaps they were sleeping. Ginny was slumped over the table, her long red hair shimmering faintly. Ron and Hermione were sitting a little way down the table from them, heads bent together, obviously deep in conversation.

He could have gone over to them, they would have welcomed him…Mrs Weasley would have surrounded him in her arms and held him close…Ginny would have stirred from her sleep and entwined his fingers in hers…He and Ron and Hermione would all look at each other without having to say anything, more closely bonded now than ever before. He would feel safe there, secure, with the only real family he had ever known.

Or would he? How could he join a family that had so recently been ripped apart by the loss of Fred? Harry couldn't imagine that they would welcome him when he had been the one who had caused that death.

Biting his lip, Harry hovered uncertainly in the doorway of the Great Hall, with the sense that everything had irreparably changed. He didn't feel comfortable with the Weasleys; and as for Ron and Hermione…well, it was obvious at a glance that they were more than happy to be by themselves.

Without fully realising what he was doing, he had turned away and was crossing the Entrance Hall to the chamber where the bodies of the dead rested. He had seen the bodies, had talked to their families, but he hadn't really taken any of it in. Even now, as he stepped into the large, dark chamber – barely lit, like the Great Hall, by a few candles – and was immediately confronted by the sight of the rows and rows of the dead, he felt nothing but a dull numbness.

He made his way between the rows of dead bodies until he reached Fred, Lupin and Tonks, all lying together. Crouching down, he closed his eyes in the silence and stillness of the chamber. The dead more real to him than the living.

He opened his eyes and looked at Fred's freckled face and Tonks' bubblegum-pink hair. It was impossible to believe that the two of them, so lively, could have left this world forever. And Lupin… Harry looked at the corpse of his former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. Sirius had died and Dumbledore had died and Harry had grieved, but no matter what happened, Lupin had always been there, steady and reliable.

Suddenly blinded by tears, Harry bowed his head, digging his fingers into his hair. Remus Lupin was gone now, never to offer Harry guidance or advice again. He had truly lost the last father figure in his life.

The last father figure…

Teddy Lupin. Like Harry, he would never know his father, or his mother. Guilt was gnawing more terribly than before at him. Would Teddy grow up blaming Harry for his parents' deaths; or would he never know the truth and view his godfather as the hero who his parents sacrificed their lives for? Harry couldn't decide which would be worse.

He remembered the picture of Teddy that Lupin had been waving around in the Room of Requirement, and was suddenly digging desperately through Lupin's pockets for it – he didn't quite know why…only that he had a fierce longing to set eyes on his godson.

Finally, his fingers closed around the photograph and he withdrew it slowly. The baby with the tuft of turquoise hair chuckled up at him, unaware that he would never see his mother or father again.

More tears spilled out of Harry's eyes and he let them flow freely; there was no one to see him, after all. Stuffing the picture of Teddy Lupin into his pocket, he lay down flat on his back, at the feet of the row of the dead, the tears running from the corners of his eyes. Voldemort was dead, and he was safe now…so why was it that he almost wished it had been the other way round?

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Please R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews, guys, and sorry about posting the same chapter twice! Guess I should have checked first...well, enjoy!**

'Harry! Harry!'

Someone was shaking his shoulder insistently. He groaned, rolling his head away from the sound. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He couldn't quite remember the darkness that faced him if he woke up; he only knew, with a heavy, sick feeling in his stomach, that nothing but hopelessness awaited him.

'Harry, wake up!'

'Don'…wanna,' he muttered, but his voice sounded slurred and heavy to his own ears.

'Harry, for heaven's sake!' Hermione's voice rose in sudden fear and his eyes snapped open.

He remembered instantly: Fred and Lupin and Tonks. Hermione and Ron were looming over him, indistinct shapes; he reached up to adjust his glasses and their concerned expressions sharpened into focus.

'Are you all right, Harry?' asked Hermione, her eyes wide with worry.

''Course,' he muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position. Ron and Hermione were kneeling beside him. 'I just fell asleep, that's all.'

'In here?' Hermione's voice was sharp. 'How on earth did you fall asleep in here?' He saw her glance around at the bodies with a tremulous expression.

'I just did.' His head was throbbing. 'What time is it?'

'Almost midnight,' said Ron. 'We've been looking for you for ages – '

'_Everyone_'s been looking for ages,' said Hermione crossly. 'After Ron came back downstairs and said you weren't in the dormitory. We should get back, everybody was really worried and they all want to get to bed.'

'Well, I didn't ask anyone to look for me,' snapped Harry as he got to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. His knees felt weak, and he felt a bit ill as well. 'I don't need people running around after me everywhere I go.'

Hermione looked startled and a little hurt by his retort. Ron also seemed surprised. 'Easy, mate, we were just worried about where you'd gone – wanted to make sure you were OK.'

'Well, I'm fine,' Harry lied.

'_Are_ you, though?' said Hermione, also getting to her feet. 'It took us almost a minute to wake you up! You're really pale, too. When was the last time you had anything to eat?'

'Er…' Harry faltered. He was beginning to feel dizzy now, the walls of the room blurring and swaying. 'Er…' He squinted in concentration. 'Did we have breakfast at Bill and Fleur's?'

Ron let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. Hermione, however, did not look amused.

'Harry, that was a day and a half ago! No wonder we couldn't wake you up, you must have fainted – '

'I didn't _faint_,' replied Harry, stung; but he was unsteady on his feet as it was, and as his eyes travelled down to rest on Fred's face, his vision suddenly blurred and he felt himself wobble. Someone caught his elbow; Ron's voice seemed to come from a long way off.

'Harry? Are you OK?'

When Harry didn't immediately answer, Ron shook his elbow.

'Harry?'

He blinked hard, attempting to clear his vision. Once again the sight of Fred, Lupin and Tonks lay before him; he couldn't tear his eyes away. He wasn't aware that Hermione was speaking until she moved right in front of him.

'_Harry,_' she said firmly. 'I think you should go to the hospital wing, you're as white as a sheet – '

'No!' said Harry forcefully. 'I don't need to – '

But the rest of his words were cut off as a shaft of yellow light fell across the darkened room; someone had opened the door from the Entrance Hall and was silhouetted there. 'Ron?' he heard Arthur Weasley call. 'Hermione? Is that you?'

'Yes, we're in here!' Hermione called back. 'And we've found Harry!'

'Oh, good – I'll tell the others.' His silhouette moved away from the doorway and they heard him shouting faintly.

'Come on,' Hermione said, and the three of them moved between the rows of bodies. When they reached the doorway, Harry hesitated for the slightest fraction of a second; it was almost as if he would prefer to stay the dark chamber in which the dead lay, rather than face the outside world. But Hermione's head had whipped around, sharp and suspicious as a snake. He pretended to frown curiously at her before moving out into the light of the Entrance Hall. The door of the chamber closed behind him.

'Harry! Thank goodness!'

Mrs Weasley was hurrying towards him across the flagstones, her red curls bobbing. She engulfed Harry in a brief, warm hug. 'We were so worried, we didn't know where you'd got to!'

'Yeah – well – sorry,' said Harry.

'It's just with everything that's happened – but you're all right, we can get to bed now – oh, there you are, Percy, and George, dear…'

It was with extreme reluctance that Harry looked at George. He was paler than Harry had ever seen him, and dark circles ringed his eyes. But there was something more than that, something deeper. He seemed utterly lost without his twin.

'Hi, George,' said Harry quietly. George didn't reply but simply looked at him with dead, expressionless eyes.

There was an awkward moment in which they all stood there in silence. Harry caught sight of tears sparkling in Mrs Weasley's eyes as she looked at George; then she said, in a falsely bright voice, 'Well, Harry's been found, so we can all get to bed. Let's see – where are our rooms…?'

'Up on the third floor,' said Charlie, who had just crossed the Entrance Hall to them. 'Hey, Harry. Glad to see you weren't dragged off by a couple of Death Eaters.'

Harry managed a weak grin. Charlie threw an arm around George's shoulders. 'You'll be sleeping in with me, mate, that OK?'

George nodded dumbly, and something painful twisted Harry's insides. He didn't speak another word, but simply watched as the Weasleys turned away and began to make their way up the marble staircase. Ron and Hermione remained with him. They were silent for a few moments; then Hermione said suddenly, 'You've to get something to eat, Harry – d'you want me to go down to the kitchens and ask Kreacher to make you something?'

'That'd be great, thanks,' said Harry, and she smiled at him before rushing off. Harry and Ron went into the Great Hall and sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table. The place was completely empty now, and was almost in total darkness, save for the light of the stars twinkling overhead and the gleam of a few candles.

'So…' said Ron. '_Are_ you all right? I mean, if you didn't want to say so in front of Hermione…'

'Because she would have dragged me straight up to the hospital wing, yeah,' Harry said wryly. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to find the words with which to express himself. Glancing at Ron, he tried to decide if he would understand how Harry felt. He _had _lost a brother last night, and yet…there was the uncomfortable memory of how he and Hermione had kissed, and Harry wondered, slightly despairingly, would things ever be the same again.

'I'm fine,' he said finally. 'I was just…I needed to find a place to rest.'

'With _corpses_?' Ron said sceptically, his eyebrows raised. 'I mean, why?'

'Because!' Harry snapped, his temper flaring unexpectedly. 'Just because!'

Ron looked slightly alarmed, and held out his palms. 'OK, OK! I just hope you're not going to make it a pastime, hanging out with Lupin and Tonks and – and…' His voice trailed off; all colour seemed to have drained from his face. Screwing up his eyes, he stared down at the table, his lips pressed tightly together.

Harry didn't know what to say. Slightly awkwardly, he reached out and clasped Ron's arm. To his surprise, Ron clasped his back.

After several moments' silence, Harry said uneasily, 'Ron, I – I'm sorry…'

Ron quickly dragged the sleeve of his robe across his face and shook his head, managing a pained smile. 'No, it's OK, I'm OK. It's – it's _George_.'

Harry recalled George's empty, expressionless eyes and felt that dull, terrible sensation in his stomach and wondered how Ron could smile at all.

'I just don't know how he'll cope,' Ron went on. 'They – they – they were always together, you know? I don't…I can't imagine…'

'Yeah,' said Harry heavily.

'And Mum. Though she's taking it better than I would've thought…probably just glad she didn't lose more of us.' Ron took in a deep, shaky breath. 'But it's over, isn't it? You-Know – I mean, _Voldemort_'s gone. It's over. It's really over. And you're still alive!'

Harry stared at him, but just at that moment plates and bowls of food began to appear on the table; the house-elves had obviously sent them up from the kitchen at Hermione's request. Ron let out a low whistle at the sight of all the food.

'Must've been Kreacher, there has to be enough here for twenty people,' said Harry, pulling a bowl of tomato soup towards him.

' "_You are much too skinny, Master Harry, you are not eating enough," ' _Ron rasped in an imitation of Kreacher's bullfrog voice.'Yeah, well, I'll help you with some of this. I've just realised I'm starving.'

They ate in silence. Harry, too, had been ravenous…but somehow, the soup was oddly tasteless; yet it seemed to be the only thing that he could stomach. When he tried more solid foods they had the taste and texture of cardboard, and he was unable to swallow them, as if there was a lump in his throat. But he found that he didn't want the food very much anyway; it was as if his appetite had disappeared as the food had appeared.

As Ron was stuffing sausage rolls into his mouth and Harry was half-heartedly toying with his soup, the sound of the door creaking open made them both glance up; Hermione was hurrying towards them, barely visible in the dimly lit hall.

'Kreacher sent up a lot, didn't he?' she said breathlessly, slipping onto the bench beside Harry. 'I tried to tell him that only a bit would do and that he should go and get some rest, but he wouldn't hear of it. I think it's disgraceful, after all the house-elves did for us and now they're back to slaving in the – '

'Hermione,' said Ron, rolling his eyes as he gulped at a goblet of pumpkin juice, 'can't you give SPEW a rest? Just for tonight?'

Hermione's eyes narrowed at once.

'Of course, that would be a typical reaction,' she said frostily. 'Putting off discussing the issue, postponing action, while the house-elves get on with their work, never complaining, and after a while they're forgotten about, and nothing has been done for them at all.'

'It's not like _I _told them to go and start working in the kitchen!' said Ron indignantly. 'Anyway, you're the one who got Kreacher to send up all this food, aren't you?'

Even in the flickering candlelight it was easy to see that Hermione's cheeks had flushed pink.

'Well,' she said, flustered, 'that was different, Harry hadn't eaten. But Ron…I really thought you had changed your mind about SPEW and decided to take positive action!' She looked hurt.

Ron, however, did not notice; his attention was riveted on a plate of ham sandwiches in the middle of the table. ''Course I did,' he said absently. 'I just think you should give it a rest for a while. I mean, a day after Voldemort's been killed and you're already going on about SPEW?'

The two of them bickered all the way up from the Great Hall to the common room; Harry was almost relieved, as it meant they hadn't noticed he'd barely eaten or spoken. When the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, he had to turn to shush them; everyone who was left in the common room was sound asleep, stretched out on sofas or slumped in armchairs.

There was only one person who was still awake: Ginny. She jumped up from an armchair beside the fire as they entered, and hurried over.

'_There _you are, Harry,' she said, looking annoyed. 'Everyone was looking for you, and nobody bothered to come and tell me when you turned up! Only that I passed Charlie, and he told me, I'd probably still be looking.'

Harry tried to smile at her, but his cheek muscles felt stiff and unused. 'Why haven't you gone to bed?'

She cocked her head sideways, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. 'I'm still waiting for my goodnight kiss, aren't I?'

He moved towards her and she slipped her arms around his waist as she pressed her warm lips to his. Harry closed his eyes and let all thought, all feeling, all pain drift away, simply breathing in her sweet flowery scent, letting himself just _be _in the moment and not have to think about the deaths and horrors that had passed.

'Oi,' said Ron from behind them, but it was in a half-hearted way, as if he knew when he'd been defeated.

'You can't tell us to stop kissing, you prat,' said Ginny angrily, as she and Harry broke apart. 'Especially not when you're going to be so hypocritical about it.'

'She's right, Ron,' said Hermione. She looked nervous. 'And anyway, aren't you going to…you know…?'

'What?' said Ron, distracted.

Harry placed his foot on top of Ron's and pressed down very hard.

'Ow! I – _what?' _Ron was clearly nonplussed. Hermione bit her lip and glanced away.

'What Hermione means,' said Ginny in a cold, hard voice – it sounded as if she had a tenuous grip on her patience – 'is that she would also like to be said goodnight to.'

'Oh,' said Ron slowly, comprehension dawning on his freckled face. 'Right. Um…'

He tripped towards Hermione; she looked petrified as he stood in front of her for several moments, completely still. Then, awkwardly, he leaned forward and bent his head sideways, clearing his throat, before the two of them clumsily leaned forward to press their lips together. Both of them were completely still, with their arms hanging by their sides. Harry could see Hermione blinking even as Ron kissed her.

After several tortured seconds, Ron abruptly leaned back, straightening up like a shot. Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ginny; her expression was one of mingled amusement and exasperation.

'Um,' said Hermione, who was a much deeper shade of pink than she had been in the Great Hall, 'thank you, Ron.'

Ginny was clearly restraining herself with great difficultly. 'Well, Hermione,' she said in a brittle tone, 'now that that's…over with, d'you want to head up to bed?'

'All right,' said Hermione, her eyes flicking to Ron. 'Goodnight, Ron.'

He made a non-committal grunt, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

'Goodnight, Harry.'

''Night, Hermione.'

When the two girls had headed up the stone staircase, Harry glanced at Ron, struggling to hide his amusement. 'That was, er…smooth.'

'Shut up,' muttered Ron, now staring at the closed door to the girls' dormitories. 'I just need more practice…'

'Didn't you have plenty of practice with Lavender?'

Ron grimaced. 'I s'pose. But Hermione…she's _different_.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Harry, without thinking; he was distracted by the painful memory of Lavender Brown being attacked by Fenrir Greyback.

Ron's head whipped around towards him. 'What do you mean, "you know"?' he echoed, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Harry looked at him for several seconds, blinking, trying to clear the fuzziness from his brain. 'I…what? What are you talking about? I didn't mean it _like that!_'

'Right, right.' Ron dragged his heels and was silent for a moment or two as the two of them began to make their way up to the dormitory. Then he burst out, 'But, Harry!'

There was such anguish in his voice that Harry stopped dead in his tracks, alarmed. He turned to face Ron; the two of them were standing in the middle of the stone staircase. 'What is it?'

Ron's face was pale, and he seemed unable to go on. Harry was uncomfortably reminded of the time Ron had accidentally taken a love potion and expressed his undying love for Romilda Vane.

He glanced over the banister at the sleeping shapes of the people sprawled on sofas. 'This _is _about Hermione, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' croaked Ron. 'I just – I mean – I don't – Harry…she does like me, doesn't she?'

Harry had to fight down a rising urge to laugh as he looked at Ron's anxious expression. 'Like you? Ron, mate, she snogged you. Right in front of me. What else could it mean?'

'Yeah, but I thought…maybe she only did that because, you know. We didn't know how much time we had left.'

'Ron,' said Harry, 'you're my best mate and everything, but really, you can be an idiot sometimes.' At Ron's indignant expression, he went on, 'Look, just take it from me. Hermione likes you. She has for ages. Okay?'

'Okay.' Ron looked a lot happier, and then said, 'Anyway, while we're on the subject of not knowing how much time we had left…Harry.' He crossed his arms, frowning suddenly. 'I didn't get a chance to ask you before, but…why? Why'd you go off to the Forest like that, knowing you were going to _die, _and…well, not tell Hermione and me?'

His look was challenging, but Harry could see something like hurt in Ron's eyes. He sighed, and looked once again down at the silhouettes of the sleeping Gryffindors in the flickering firelight. 'Do we have to talk about this _now_?'

'Everyone's asleep,' said Ron. 'I just want to know, OK? Why'd you go off by yourself without telling Hermione and me?'

'Well, for starters,' replied Harry, 'you would've wanted to come with me.'

'So what?'

'What do you _think_?' Harry forgot to keep his voice low. 'Did you really believe that I'd let you come along just to have Voldemort kill you?'

'But he killed _you_.' Ron was still pale. 'Sort of.'

'Yeah, and that had to happen, didn't it?' said Harry impatiently. 'Did you _want _him to kill you or something?'

Ron sighed. 'Of course not.'

He didn't seem to have anything else to say on the subject; but looking at his friend's shadowed face, Harry suddenly felt a desire to explain.

'It…it wasn't easy,' he began haltingly. 'You know, going to face him, and – and knowing that I was going to _die, _it was all going to…_end_…and that I wasn't going to see you or Hermione again…or Ginny…' He'd thought that he'd used up all his tears as he lay beside the bodies of Fred and Lupin and Tonks, but he found that his eyes were wet. For some reason, he didn't care anymore. 'I couldn't face any of you and know that I was saying goodbye for good. If I had, I dunno if I could have gone through with it.'

Ron swallowed very hard.

'Well,' he said hoarsely, ducking his head and making a quick movement of brushing his sleeve across his face, 'I…OK. I didn't realise…didn't think about what it must've been like. But you got to admit,' he added, looking at Harry again, 'us thinking you were dead was no picnic, either.'

'I'll grant you that,' said Harry, grinning at him, and the two of them made their way up to their dormitory.

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Criticism welcomed!


	3. Chapter 3

BANG.

Harry shot straight out of a deep sleep into alert wakefulness, sitting bolt upright, his heart thudding madly in his ears, fumbling for his glasses and his wand at the same time.

'What the – ' he heard Ron gasp from the bed next his.

BANG.

The stone wall of Gryffindor Tower exploded inwards in a hall of bricks; Harry, acting on instinct, yelled, '_Protego!' _and heard Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus yelling the same thing. The Shield Charms deflected most of the stones, but not all; Harry's four-poster bed collapsed in a tangle of wood and hangings, and he rolled off the mattress just in time, hitting the floor with a thud.

Dust filled the air, but he could feel a breeze on his face; there was a huge, gaping hole in the side of Gryffindor Tower. Panting and choking, he scrambled to his feet, squinting towards the hole. He caught of a glimpse of dark sky, of stars, and several dark figures swooping towards him –

He heard one of them shout distantly, and again a portion of the wall exploded. There was no time to cast a Shield Charm; Harry ducked as stones flew towards him. One struck him on the side of the head and he flew backwards, hitting what had moments before been his bed; another, larger stone smashed into his leg and he had to bite back a yell of pain.

One side of his head was sticky with blood, he was half blinded by it; his leg was trapped under the huge stone that had been part of Hogwarts' wall. He saw the figures swooping through the hole, landing on the debris-strewn floor of the dormitory, dismounting from their broomsticks, hooded, cloaked…

_Death Eaters._

Harry's empty fist clenched and unclenched uselessly; he had dropped his wand when he fell backwards. Where were the others? He could hear nothing of them, and with the dust clogging the air, it was impossible to see them. He thought he could hear distant screaming far below, but it could have just been the ringing in his ears.

He could do nothing but lie there, half-stunned, and watch helplessly as the three Death Eaters advanced towards him. Any moment now and there would be a flash of green light and he'd be in King's Cross again –

But the curse did not come. Instead, the three Death Eaters parted and pulled a smaller cloaked figure from behind them, shoving the person forwards.

'Do it!' Harry heard one yell. 'Do it now!'

The smaller Death Eater stumbled forwards, and suddenly their hood came falling down, revealing a tumble of dark hair and a thin pale face in which the wide, scared violet eyes seemed much too large.

'_Do it!_' screamed another Death Eater. '_Kill him!_'

The girl had to be the same age as Harry, and the two stared at each other as she took a tentative step forwards.

'KILL HIM!' yelled the Death Eater. 'Before they come! NOW!'

The girl raised her wand in a shaking hand –

'_Stupefy!' _Ron bellowed, and she collapsed limply to the floor. Harry could hear the others yelling, '_Stupefy! Stupefy!' – _jets of red light streaked through the air, rebounding off the walls –and then all the Death Eaters were lying prone on the ground.

In the sudden silence that fell, screams and running footsteps echoed up to them. Then Ron staggered out of the dust, ashen-faced and bearing several scratches, but otherwise seemingly unharmed.

'Harry,' he gasped. 'You all right? Blimey, look at the state of you!'

Harry raised a trembling hand to the side of his head. His hair was matted with blood.

'I – I'm fine,' he managed to say. 'Help me shift this rock, will you?'

Ron knelt down beside him and pushed at the rock with all his might, screwing up his face in effort, but it didn't budge.

Harry glanced to his right; his wand lay near him. Reaching over to pick it up, he pointed at the rock and stammered, '_Wing – Wingardium Leviosa.'_

The rock floated up into the hair, finally freeing Harry's leg. His jeans – he hadn't bothered changing into pyjamas – were a ripped and bloody mess. Ron seized him under the shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

'Death Eaters!' he said, his eyes wide in his grimy face. 'Death Eaters! What the hell? I thought they were all rounded up!'

'Apparently not,' said Harry grimly. Neville, Dean and Seamus were all bending over the said Death Eaters, looking horrified. Neville had just stepped towards the girl when there was a sudden banging at the door.

'What's going on?' cried Professor McGonagall's voice. 'Open up!'

Several huge stones were blocking the door. The others hurried to move them, but Harry and Ron remained behind, surveying the bodies of the Death Eaters. Harry moved towards the girl; she was lying face down. He bent down and reached out.

'Careful,' Ron warned.

Harry flipped the girl onto her back. Her eyes were closed, her lashes dark upon her pale cheeks; her chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths.

'Who d'you think she is?' he asked Ron.

'No idea,' said Ron, staring at her. 'Bit young to be a Death Eater, though, isn't she?' he added in obvious fascination.

Harry was about to reply, but at that moment Professor McGonagall burst in, Professors Slughorn and Sprout right behind her. She took one look at the scene of destruction before her and all colour drained from her face.

'Merlin's beard,' wheezed Slughorn.

'What on earth…?' whispered Professor McGonagall.

'Death Eaters,' said Harry. 'They blasted through the wall.'

'Death Eaters…'

She seemed speechless as she walked over to survey the unconscious group. 'But surely…I thought we captured them all…'

Her eyes landed on the girl, and Harry saw her become very still, her expression freezing,

'Horace,' she said after a moment, in a low, hard voice, 'please send an owl to Kingsley Shacklebolt, requesting his presence immediately.'

'Kingsley…the Minister?' panted Slughorn.

'Please hurry,' said McGonagall calmly. As Slughorn waddled from the room, she cast another indescribable expression at the girl before turning to Harry and Ron.

'Now, will you please explain just – _Potter, what happened to you?'_

'The wall,' said Harry dazedly. 'It hit me…' He realised that he was shaking all over and felt weak and dizzy. He also became aware that he was dripping blood onto the floor, and wondered which house elf was going to clean it. Then he looked around at the destroyed dormitory, and the huge hole in the wall and the crushed beds, and let out a quick laugh before he could stop himself. Ron looked alarmed.

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

'I suspect,' she said coolly, ever the teacher despite all that had recently happened, 'that you're in no fit state to explain to me exactly what happened here. You'd better go to the hospital wing so that Madam Pomfrey can clean you up. Yes, Weasley, you can go with him, go on now...'

The two of them made their way over the debris and onto the small landing that the all the boys' dormitories led onto. Professor Flitwick was standing outside the door, trying to shoo away the scared and curious students. Several exclaimed when Harry and Ron emerged, but the faces were blurred to Harry and he couldn't make out who any of them belonged too. Ron gripped him firmly by the elbow and steered him towards the staircase.

The Gryffindor common room was now packed with students, all who had been awoken by the sound of the blasts. A sea of pale faces turned upwards to them; voices cried out at the sight of Harry's face and others shouted questions up to them. As Harry and Ron stepped off the staircase, Hermione flew towards them.

'Harry! Ron! Are you all right? Oh – _Harry!' _Her voice rose to a shriek. 'You're covered in blood! What on earth happened?'

'Death Eaters,' Ron told her. 'They blasted through the wall – they were on broomsticks.'

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. 'I thought they were all caught,' she whispered. 'And – then what? Did they go for you, Harry?'

'Not exactly,' Harry mumbled. 'They sent this girl – she looked like she was going to kill me…but would she have? I dunno…'

Hermione blinked at him, and Ron hastily intervened.

'They had a girl, 'bout our age,' he supplied, 'and they pushed her towards Harry and started shouting at her to kill him. Neville and the others and I managed to Stun them all just in time.'

'And was anyone hurt?' said Hermione worriedly. 'Apart from you, Harry, of course – I mean, look at you!' She reached up to rub uselessly at his cheek with her sleeve; the material came away soaked red.

'The rest of us are fine,' Ron assured her, 'and McGonagall told me to take Harry to the hospital wing. He's acting a bit funny,' he added in a loud whisper, 'not exactly himself – must've been the blow to his head.'

'I'm _fine_,' Harry said loudly, wobbling on his feet. He wobbled a bit too far and pitched forward. Ron and Hermione grabbed him by the arms, and exchanged glances as they pulled him towards the portrait hole.


	4. Chapter 4

It was an excruciating walk to the hospital wing, through the dark corridors still bearing signs of the recent battle. Even with one arm around Ron's neck, it was excruciating to put any weight on his injured leg. And Hermione's steady stream of chatter wasn't exactly helping his aching head.

'Who was she, though?' she was saying as she led the way in front of Ron and Harry, her wand-tip illuminating the corridor ahead. 'A daughter of one of the Death Eaters? She had to be someone important – why were they trying to make her kill you?'

'No idea,' Harry muttered between gritted teeth, as a particularly painful jab shot through his leg. But his mind, too, was working fast, trying to figure out who the girl could possibly be – and why it was so important that _she _kill him. He couldn't help but remember how Snape had urged Malfoy to kill Dumbledore that night a year ago. 'I think McGonagall knows, though,' he added. 'Just the way she looked at her…'

'It's strange, all right,' said Ron, huffing and puffing a bit under Harry's weight. 'But I don't suppose McGonagall will tell us who she is, she never tells anyone _anything…_'

When at last they reached the hospital wing and pushed open the door, the long ward was dark, although shafts of moonlight fell through the windows to the floor here and there. By the single light of a burning lamp, they could see the silhouette of Madam Pomfrey bending over a bed at the end of the room.

All of the beds were full – in fact, Harry couldn't remember there ever being so many beds in here before, yet they were in no way packed tightly together. As he, Ron and Hermione began to make their way up the ward he kept his eyes down, not wanting to see the injuries of the patients, injuries that he was responsible for.

A voice suddenly whispered out of the darkness. 'Ron? Is that you?'

Ron's eyes widened, and he glanced towards Hermione in an anxious way. 'It's Lavender,' he said under his breath. 'I should…'

Hermione's lips tightened almost imperceptibly, but she nodded at once.

'Back in a sec,' said Ron, moving over to Lavender's bedside, and Hermione slipped an arm around Harry's waist now that Ron wasn't there to support him.

The walk up between the rows of bed seemed much, much longer than Harry remembered. A charm must have been put on the ward to make it bigger – _An Undetectable…Something…Charm, _he thought, sure that he knew the proper term for it, but it somehow escaped him in his current disoriented frame of mind.

Madam Pomfrey hurried towards them as they approached, holding the lamp up. 'Potter?' she whispered, thrusting the lamp right into his face so that he squinted in its glare. 'How did you get into this state?'

'Some Death Eaters came through the wall, Madam Pomfrey,' said Hermione clearly. 'It's OK, they've been caught,' she added as the matron gasped. 'Several stones hit Harry, but I don't think it's anything to worry about…'

'Well, we'll just see about that,' said Madam Pomfrey, dragging Harry towards an empty bed that hadn't been there a moment ago, and pushed him roughly onto it. 'The number of times I've had you in here, Potter…nearly every year, I believe! You're of age and you've left the school, and nothing has changed…' She poked at the wound on Harry's head with her wand and muttered something under her breath. The cut burned, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He felt her do the same thing to his leg. When he opened his eyes he saw her waving her wand and muttering under her breath, causing bandages to appear on both wounds.

'Drink this,' she said brusquely, shoving a goblet of potion at him. 'If you're feeling dizzy it should help. And then you'll _sit _there, and not move an inch!'

She bustled off, and Harry downed the potion in one.

'Urgh,' he said, making a face and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. 'Why can't any of this stuff ever taste good?' But already his head was clearing, and Hermione's face moved into sharper focus. She wrung out a cloth in a basin of water on the bedside table and began to clean the blood off Harry's face.

She didn't speak, and her face was pinched in concern. 'Hey,' said Harry, 'it's OK. I feel fine now.'

'I know,' she said, managing to smile at him. She took off his glasses and handed them to him so that she could clean his face better. 'It's just…oh, Harry.' Her hand dropped to her side and she sank onto the bed beside Harry. 'I thought it was over. When does it end?' She looked like she was going to burst into tears.

Harry hastily put an arm around her shoulders. 'It _is _over,' he told her firmly. 'It was just some Death Eaters who they didn't catch. That's all.'

'But, Harry,' whispered Hermione, her eyes large in the darkness, 'they were going after you. They'll be going after you as long as you live.'

Harry's heart sank like a stone; his stomach felt like it had been filled with lead. Numbly, he let his arm drop from Hermione's shoulders. She noticed, and immediately seized his hand. 'Harry, Harry, I didn't mean – I didn't…' She gripped his fingers tightly when he didn't immediately respond, only stared blankly at her. The tears were spilling onto Hermione's cheeks now. 'I'm sorry, Harry,' she said with a broken sob. 'I'm just – I'm so _tired_…'

The sight of her curling into herself in misery startled Harry out of his stupor. Tentatively, he put his arms around Hermione and she leaned into him, now sobbing uncontrollably.

There were sudden hurried footsteps and then Ron was there. 'Hermione!' he said urgently. 'What's wrong? Are you all right?'

He flopped down onto the bed beside Hermione; she pulled away from Harry and launched herself into Ron's arms, crying as though she'd never stop. Ron looked at Harry with wide eyes over the top of her head, but Harry only shrugged at him. A new sensation had hit him when he saw the two of them hugging, Harry left on the sidelines once again.

'I – I'm sorry,' sniffed Hermione, sitting up again. She wiped at her eyes, gulping. 'D-don't mind me. I'm not sad, really, I'm not – '

'What's going on over here?'

Madam Pomfrey was looking most disapproving. 'I know we've all had a rough time, Miss Granger, but really, I can't have you in hysterics in a hospital ward at this time of night. I can give you something to help you sleep, if you like – '

'No, no,' said Hermione, now hiccupping slightly, 'that's all right. We should be going now, anyway…'

Harry, Ron and Hermione all rose from the bed, but Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at Harry's chest in a threatening manner.

'Not you,' she said sternly. 'I'm keeping you here overnight.'

'What?' said Harry in dismay. 'But I feel fine!'

'I want to keep an eye on you,' she said, fixing him with a steely stare. 'That's an order, Potter, and one I expect you to follow. Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, I think it's best if you leave. It's very late.'

She pushed a pair of pyjamas into Harry's arms and made shooing motions at Ron and Hermione.

'We're going!' said Ron quickly, waggling his eyebrows at Harry. 'Harry, mate – see you in the morning. We'll tell Ginny you're all right.'

'Goodnight, Harry,' Hermione said to him for the second time that night, still dabbing at her eyes, and the two of them departed.

Only a few minutes after they had left, and Harry had reluctantly pulled on the pyjamas and gotten into bed, had the door to the hospital wing swung open and Professors McGonagall and Slughorn entered. Slughorn was carrying a limp figure in his gigantic arms, and was panting and sweating profusely as they made their way up towards the end of the hospital wing where Harry lay. Harry's breath caught when he realised that they were carrying the girl, and he quickly raised his head slightly, the scene slightly blurred as he didn't dare to reach for his glasses and give himself away.

No one was looking over at Harry, however; their attention was all on the girl as Slughorn lowered her onto a bed. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were conversing in low voices.

' – don't understand, Minerva. Who is she?'

Professor McGonagall was silent for a few moments. 'Someone important,' she said finally. 'Someone whose existence I found it hard to believe in, even though it was on the word of Dumbledore…he even had a photograph.'

'I must say, this is all very mysterious…'

'I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore, Poppy. But _what _to do? I can only hope Kingsley Shacklebolt has a better idea than I do – when he gets here, that is. I can hardly believe it – and then there's Potter…'

The two of them glanced over at Harry, and he quickly shut his eyes, glad of the darkness.

'I really don't understand what you're saying.'

'I'm sorry, but I absolutely can't tell you anything about this. Only a few people know of the existence of this girl…it's quite astonishing…Anyway,' Professor McGonagall's tone suddenly became much more business-like, 'I think she was hit by two Stunning Spells, and I thought maybe you should check her over.'

'Well, let me see…' There was a few minutes' silence. 'Ah, yes,' Madam Pomfrey eventually mused, 'yes…but she'll be fine, Minerva, quite all right.'

'That's a relief, I suppose…or perhaps not.' McGonagall's tone was dark. 'I have to go and meet Kingsley Shacklebolt now, Poppy, and we'll both have to speak to her. When do you think she'll wake up?'

'I daresay in a couple of hours.'

'We'll come up here, soon enough, then…we have to decide how best to deal with this situation…' Their voices faded and then disappeared all together as they walked towards the door; a minute later Madam Pomfrey came hurrying back up the hospital wing. She disappeared behind her office door and there was silence.

Harry didn't know when she'd come out again; he only had one chance. Flinging back the covers, he leaped out of bed and stumbled to the girl's bedside. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up and leaned down to study her.

Her face held every bit of that delicate, pristine beauty he'd remembered from that brief, dizzy look in Gryffindor Tower. Hardly daring to breathe, he took in every detail of her face: her high cheekbones, dark brows, pale skin…

Harry frowned. There was something naggingly familiar about her…and not in a good way, he suspected. But try as he might, he just couldn't put his finger on who exactly it was she so resembled…

There was a noise from Madam Pomfrey's office and he slipped back to his bed and under the covers. The nurse didn't emerge but he kept lifting his head to look at the dark form of the girl. His last thoughts before he slipped into sleep were of her and who she might possibly be.

The next morning, as bright sunlight flooded the hospital wing, the first thing he did when he woke up was look over at the girl. But she was gone, her bed empty and neatly made, as if she'd never been there.


End file.
